A Place Not Far From Here
by ChemicalPixie
Summary: Attempting to stay one step ahead of The Cause, which violently echoes the time of Grindelwald, Amelia Fortescue faces truths she'd rather not admit, especially the ones related to James Potter. As she tries to make sense of her present, she needs to confront her past. Amelia must find her way, but it's not as far as she might think.
1. The Final Hallow

The owl evaporates in a puff of smoke.

The two owls, who are sitting on my open window sill, screech before taking off in fright. I numbly hold onto the envelope, which moments ago was tied to a tawny owl, a third and unexpected arrival in my daily owl post. The swirls of smoke fade as they float towards the ceiling.

I glance down at the envelope, pondering. Whatever is inside, it cannot be good. But after everything that has happened, I don't suppose it can make things be much worse.

Carefully, I tear the wax seal and peer inside. For a split second, I think it's a cigarette lighter, but it happens to be a small, rectangular box. There's no note.

Gently, I pull the box out of the envelope and hold it in my hands. Why would someone magick an owl in order to give me this?

Something shifts inside as I turn the box around. Sighing, I slowly open the lid.

"For the love of Merlin!" I gasp, putting the lid back on and dropping the box onto my desk. My stomach twists in knots as I glance fervently around my room in disbelief.

"Amelia?" Aunt Susan knocks on my door and pops her head inside. "Have you had breakfast yet? I'm about to head off to the Ministry."

"Yes, yes," I say, recovering. I use my edition of _The Daily Prophet_ , today's first owl, to cover the box. Aunt Susan notices my reach towards the sealed envelope, which was delivered by the second owl, on my desk.

"What's that?" she asks. "Is it-?"

"Yes."

"Well then! Open it!" She comes fully inside my room. "Michael! Amelia got her results!"

Several clanks come from downstairs. I know that Uncle Michael, Eddie, and Helen are coming from the breakfast table. I keep my face neutral as I slip _The Prophet_ and the box into my bag.

"About time! When the kids got their Hogwarts letters a few weeks back, I was starting to worry about the N.E.W.T.s…" Uncle Michael lingers in my doorway as Eddie and Helen push their way into my room.

"I didn't know this was a Corner family show," I mutter.

"Oh, Amelia, come on! You already got one N.E.W.T. from last year in-" 

"Okay, okay. I'll open it," I say. I take several deep breaths to settle my racing heart. I would rather not talk about the one N.E.W.T. that I earned in my sixth year at Hogwarts. Lifting the envelope for a dramatic effect, I slowly open the seal.

"Well?" Aunt Susan prompts, sitting on my bed and hugging Eddie in anticipation.

"Huh."

Aunt Susan immediately appears behind my shoulder after casting Eddie aside.

"Mum!" Eddie huffs.

"Wow, Amelia, wow," Aunt Susan breathes. "You'll get a decent job at the Ministry with these! Everyone, listen to this. O's in Transfiguration, History of Magic, and Herbology-Neville and Hannah will be thrilled- and E's in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Arithmacy, and Charms-oh, honey, these are really good, concerning."

"Concerning what?" I ask. I let her have my results as Uncle Michael and Helen come over to see them.

"I'm sorry," Aunt Susan says as her signature look of concern etches onto her face. "I didn't mean to make you upset. I just wanted to highlight your achievements despite-"

"There's no despite!" I insist loudly as I shoulder my bag. Again, my heart thumps wildly in my chest. My tone becomes calm. "I know that you are all concerned about what happened at the funeral, but as I've told you before, I'm fine. I only had met him once before, so I never really knew him-"

"We aren't talking about your father, Amelia," Uncle Michael says sternly. "We're talking about-" 

"Listen," I interrupt. How many times must they talk about this? "That was almost six months ago. We hadn't been dating when it happened. I don't know why you think an expired Hogwarts relationship would distract me from achieving good N.E.W.T. scores."

Aunt Susan and Uncle Michael frown at each other. Helen and Eddie suddenly are interested in the rug at the foot of my bed.

"I'm going to be late to Ollivander's," I say. "Good-bye."

I leave the Corner's alone in my bedroom as I rush downstairs. Grabbing my traveling cloak, I walk into the back garden, so I can Apparate to Diagon Alley.

"Good morning, Miss Fortescue," Ollivander says as I enter his shop. The old man lifts a trembling hand in my direction. "I was thinking I was going to miss you today."

"I'm here, Mr. Ollivander," I say as I hang up my cloak and bag in my work cubby. "I wouldn't dream of missing today, especially with all of the new Hogwarts students coming this week."

"Pine wood, eleven inches with dragon heartstring," Ollivander murmurs as he watches me put on my apron.

"You still remember," I tell him, flashing him a kind smile. Though his body has become frail, his mind has remained impeccably sharp.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Miss Fortescue. Your grandfather, who owned that ice cream shop before the Second Wizarding War, had redwood, twelve inches, dragon heartstring. An ancient wood for someone so knowledgeable… The Second Wizarding War got him, I'm afraid…"

"Yes, I know," I say quietly, linking my arm through his. It seems like our minds are stuck in the past today. "Tell you what. You manage the counter while I get to cataloging the upper shelves today. I'll even let you pick out the music station on the wireless..."

As soon as I have a spare moment in the shop, I go into the utilities closet to breathe in the darkness. N.E.W.T. scores and Hogwarts baggage aside, my mind focuses on the tiny box hiding securely in my bag.

Who sent it to me? I have a few ideas, and they all link back to The Cause.

Why would they send it to me? My stomach lurches. It could be a message. It _is_ a message.

It's happened. They've done it. Maybe. Probably…

I give a shuddering sigh and grasp onto the mop for support. They want me to check. They want me to…

No. I won't give them the satisfaction.

But it would answer so many of my questions.

If I am to do what they want, then I would be playing into their hand. What could have they accomplished since the funeral?

Why do they want me to see that they've finally killed James?

I could trace this back to the first few weeks of my fifth year at Hogwarts. At first, he was mad at me. Before then, we had only known each other as acquaintances: different houses, different years, different social circles. What connected us was Neville Longbottom. James' parents were friends with him, and my cousin and legal guardian, Aunt Susan Corner (nee Bones), was friends with this wife, Hannah. But after using my authority over James, everything changed.

It was late, and I had missed dinner because I was in the library before prefect's rounds. On my way back to my common room, I stopped by the kitchens for a quick snack. Someone was already there.

"Good evening, miss!" squeaked a few house elves. "Can we get you something to eat?"

"Well, if it isn't a prefect out after hours," taunted a voice by the fireplace. I turned my attention to the boy standing in the shadows.

"Potter?" I asked, frowning. "What are you doing here?"

"Same as you, I'd expect," he grinned widely as he stepped into the light. He took a bite of his pastry. His brown eyes reflected the firelight, and his smile remained in the corner of his mouth as he chewed.

I was caught. I clenched my toes, thinking of a way out of this. "Actually, no," I replied coolly.

"Miss?" asked a house elf. "Miss doesn't want a midnight snack?" 

"No," I lied. "I was just coming from my prefect's round, and I remembered that I have a request for all of you."

"What is it? What is it?" asked some of the house elves. "Anything you want, miss!"

James watched me silently as his smile melted into a quizzical frown, wondering what my next move was. I stood a little taller, so my prefect's badge was noticeable in the dim light.

"I request that you do not serve the Gryffindor table bacon tomorrow," I said.

"What? Why not?" coughed James as he swallowed a bite of pastry too soon.

My eyes stayed on the house elves. "I'm making this request as a prefect. I saw some rule breaking this morning during breakfast at the Gryffindor table, and as a consequence, they shouldn't get bacon tomorrow." 

"Yes, miss!" squeaked a few house elves.

"What the bloody hell for?" demanded James. He walked closer to me. His prior good naturedness turned into an icy indignity. "You can't do that-"

"Would you rather me take away house points?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What for?"

"I saw you throw some bacon at a few third years this morning," I told him calmly.

"That was only my cousin, Freddie. No harm was meant by it!"

"Throwing food is against school rules."

"And you're taking away the bacon?" James asked. "But my team needs the protein-"

"I could report you and you'd get detention, Potter," I said. "Either lost house points and detention or no bacon."

James fumed at me. "You can't-"

"Sure I can. I just did. You're lucky that I'm not reporting this encounter. You should be in your dormitory."

"Just because you're a prefect-" James started.

"I am," I interrupted. "Finish your pastries and get back to your tower. Next time I see you out after hours, I'll report you." I turned to the house elves. "Thank you for your assistance. Good night."

"Fortescue-" James was cut off by the house elves' polite farewell.

"It's getting late," I said. "See you later, Potter. Remember what I've said."

With a growling stomach, which I was fairly certain that James could hear, I turned and walked out of the kitchens. As soon as the painting was back on the wall, I let out a sigh of relief. I had not expected to find anyone else there. I hated surprises.

My dreams that night ended in terror. I was always running in the garden at night; I thought I was after food, but I could have been playing a game. But the face from _The Prophet_ was there, the face that caused me to glance away from my morning newspaper and over to James Potter just as he was throwing bacon at his younger cousin. The face of the prisoner who had been broken out of Azkaban the previous night, the face of a man that I swore I saw once as a child at Hannah and Neville's wedding.

The man had glittering eyes, like he was watching my every move. Slowly, ever so slowly, he lifted his lips in a twisted smile, his shining, silver tooth catching the light. And I knew that he had me where he wanted me.

My racing heart woke me every time, and I thought of my encounter with James. Would my request to withhold the bacon be listened to? I hoped to Merlin that it would be. If I had no say over what I dreamt, then I hoped that I could have a say over breakfast.

Sure enough, the next morning there was no bacon at the Gryffindor table. How did I know? 

"See you in Charms, Amelia!" Victoria Montague called as she turned her head back towards me.

I was finishing my breakfast, since I had come up late from my dormitory. A night of no food and little sleep made it difficult to get moving in the morning. I waved after her, sipping a goblet of pumpkin juice.

An arm reached from behind me and grabbed something from my plate.

"Merlin's beard!" I exclaimed, turning around.

James laughed at me, holding one of my strips of bacon in front of him. "I can't believe the house elves listened to you. No bacon today. Mmm," he finished, shoving my piece of bacon into his mouth.

My eyes narrowed, and I grabbed my last piece of bacon and licked it from top to bottom before dropping it on my plate. "Serves you right, throwing food. Wasteful," I sniffed.

James raised his eyebrows. "What makes you think I'm scared of a little saliva?"

He reached towards my plate, but I was faster. I took a bite of my bacon.

"Merlin, Fortescue. You're one cheeky prefect." 

"All in the line of duty." I finished my bacon.

James frowned. "Well then, I best keep my toes in line around you. Wouldn't want to go without bacon again."

"Good."

James lingered for a moment before shrugging and walking towards the door. I watched after him.

"Amelia, what did you do to my brother?" Albus Potter asked, bewildered, from a few seats away from me.

I open my eyes. They've adjusted to the darkness; I can see outlines of buckets and brooms. Ollivander calls my name again.

"Coming!" I yell, grabbing a duster.

Whatever the motive, I know that what I received today does not bode well. Whoever sent it to me knows that I've had possession of the other two at some point in my life.

I thought that this one was lost. At least, that's the conclusion I came to throughout my investigations. Seems like I was wrong.

At least this time, I didn't steal it.

A/N: Anything you recogniize belongs to JKR.

To old readers: Thank you for your support at HPFF! I'm saving all of your lovely reviews to remember your wonderful support. Thank you for following this story on a new site!

To my new readers: Thanks for reading this chapter! This story is told in two, constantly weaving parts: the present (written in present tense) and the past (written in past tense).

Please leave a few words about your thoughts on the chapter! I'll be posting more chapters as I continue to write.


	2. The Jaguar

A few days after Halloween of fifth year, I received a visitor. I sat next to Victoria Montague in History of Magic, scribbling copious notes on the lecture when my visitor came.

"Stop paying so much attention," muttered Victoria as she drew her ideal set of dress robes in the margin of her parchment. "You're making the rest of us look bad."

"Can't help it," I retorted out of the corner of my mouth. "There's so much to know."

It was true. While Professor Binns was by no means the most engaging teacher at Hogwarts, his subject fascinated me. The goblin wars and rebellions, the witch burnings, the wizarding wars: our past swirled around us and created how we lived now.

Before Victoria could reply, there was a knock on the door.

"No, no, Mr. Waddington, you can't go to the toilet," grunted Binns from his podium.

"Pardon me, Professor Binns," Professor McGonagall said kindly as she cracked open the door. "Please excuse Miss Fortescue for the rest of class. I need her to come with me."

The class turned towards me. I put down my quill and began to pack my things, frustrated that I had to leave early. I knew better than to argue with the Headmistress in front of the class, especially as a prefect. Questions whirled around in my mind about what was to come next.

"Very well then." Binns cleared his throat and continued, "Ah yes, the eighteenth century. Now that was a time…"

I could feel the class's interest leave with me. Professor McGonagall, after closing the classroom's door, turned to me and pursed her lips.

"Am I in trouble, Professor?" I asked, wondering if I needed to put up a defense.

"No, no, Miss Fortescue. It's best that you come with me to my office."

I followed her silently to her office, puzzled over this sombre occasion. We went past the eagle statue and up the spiral steps before she spoke to me again.

"Miss Fortescue, this might be a bit of a shock to you. Try to brace yourself as best as you can, and know that you can take as much time as you need."

I stared up at her, nodding slowly, unsure of exactly what was happening. Professor McGonagall opened the door to her office and ushered me inside.

Books lined the room, as well as portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses. I could see the famous Albus Dumbledore snoozing in his frame.

"Miss Fortescue, you have a visitor," Professor McGonagall announced.

A witch was sitting in a chair facing the desk. Upon our arrival, she stood up and turned around. I stopped in the doorway as I recognized her.

"Amelia," she breathed, smiling.

I blinked a few times as my heartbeat quickened.

"Mum," I finally answered.

She embraced me, and I stared numbly over her shoulder at Professor McGonagall's empty chair.

"Minerva, would I be able to talk to my daughter somewhere more private?" my mother asked. Professor McGonagall's gaze narrowed as she nodded.

"Of course. I'll have tea brought up to my private parlor." She showed as inside and waited with us until the tea arrived and shut the door behind her.

I walked over to the window and stared out at the grounds. The Black Lake was a glossy mirror to the overcast sky.

"Amelia, darling, look at how much you've grown!" beamed my mum as she settled into an armchair.

"What do you want?" I asked flatly, still staring outside.

My mother laughed uncomfortably. "You're all business, aren't you? Come and sit. I've poured you some tea. Let's catch up."

I crossed my arms, squeezing my torso. After all this time, she wanted to _catch up_? "I'm not thirsty."

"Amelia, I wish you'd be more receptive to my visit. I've traveled a long way to see you." Out of the corner of my eye, she picked up a teacup and took a sip. "Ah, just like I remembered it. Do you enjoy the tea here at Hogwarts?" 

"No," I lied. I faced her. "Why are you here?"

My mother's gaze hardened. "Sit down."

"I'm fine here."

"Amelia...please."

Her grey eyes pierced my hazel ones. There was nothing polite about her please, or nothing desperate. There was a warning behind the word, a threat. I had a sinking feeling that it wouldn't be pleasant getting on her bad side.

Before I knew it, I was sitting in a chair across from her. Her composure softened, but my muscles remained tense.

"There, that's nice. Now, tell me about your classes. I heard that you're in sixth year Ancient Runes."

"Yes," I replied tersely. "Seems like that's one good thing you've done for me." 

"Amelia," she said warningly. "Let's be civil."

"We don't have to be anything. I wasn't even at Hogwarts the last time that I saw you," I snapped. Visions of her last visit, which had been about a month after I had gotten my Hogwarts letter, swam before my eyes. It hadn't been the happiest of occasions. There had been arguments between her and my aunt and uncle.

"You know that it's not my choice to stay away," she began but I cut her off.

"Really? Dumping your only child at your extended cousin's place? And then visiting sporadically for the next few years until visits stop all together? Message received. I've moved on with my life, and you don't have a place in it."

My mum set down her teacup. Her greying brown hair was tied austerely into a knot at the base of her neck, leaving the angles of her face to flash dangerously in my direction.

"Is that what Susan's told you?" she asked quietly. I could see a crouching jaguar behind her words. One wrong move, and she would attack.

"No. I arrived at that conclusion myself."

"I see." Her fingers traced the rim of her teacup, but her eyes never left my face. "You know, it hasn't been easy."

I grit my teeth. I didn't want to hear a pining mother act.

"The work I do… it's not meant for children," she went on, carefully, her words edging closer to her attack. "I understand it must be hard to be without your parent. But once you understand the bigger picture…"

She trailed off, finally looking down at her teacup. She seemed like she was pondering taking another sip. But I knew better. She was waiting to pounce on my ignorance. She was baiting me.

I sat there in silence.

"Amelia, I left you at Susan's for your own protection. What I'm doing now, what I've been doing since before you were born, is all for you. It's for wizardkind everywhere."

"Okay. Then go back to what you were doing."

My mother raised an eyebrow. "You aren't curious to find out what I've been doing?"

"Not particularly."

"Oh come on, Amelia. I've received Susan's letters, begging me to come back to give you some peace. She's told me about how worried she is about you."

"I'm fine. I go to school. I go to my classes. I get decent grades. And I'm prefect for Merlin's sake!" I say, standing again. "Listen, I can continue doing all of these things if you're finished with your visit."

"I see." She took a sip from her cup. "Sit down again, Amelia."

I found myself obeying her. I crossed my legs and leaned back into my chair.

"Now then. If you're so eager to go back to being a normal student, then I'll get down to business. After all, that's what you want." She paused, and I gave her a blank look. "What I've dedicated so much of my life to is for the greater good. I've been working tirelessly for The Cause."

I couldn't help myself. "The Cause?" I snorted.

"Yes. I want...I _hope_ that you will keep an open mind. It's a part of our family. It has been for generations. Your grandfather- _my_ father, Florean-was too meek to do much of anything. It cost him his life during the Second Wizarding War."

"Okay. Aunt Susan's told me about my grandfather's ice cream shop in Diagon Alley."

"Yes, that was his. I spent many of my summers helping around that shop… But even though he didn't have much grit for The Cause, he had a keen mind for magical history, a mind, I hear, that you also possess."

My legs uncrossed. I was furious that she caught my interest.

"I can't tell you everything about The Cause, I'm afraid. Not now. I hope to in the future. But know this: greater wizards have been a part of it, and they've failed. It's not for the weak of heart, mind, and spirit. But it's a part of your heritage, and so, if you hear anything said against The Cause in _The Prophet_ or from your teachers here, know that The Cause isn't what it's made out to be."

I scrunched my nose. "Are you… are you doing something _illegal_?"

"No," my mum said gently. "I am an activist, trying to change the world for better."

"How so?"

My mum smiled softly. "I can't tell you that right now. But I do have something for you." Her hand went inside her plum robe's pocket and withdrew an envelope. "Amelia, don't open this here. Open this when you're absolutely certain that you're alone."

My hands extended, and the envelope dropped into them. It was light, but I could tell there was something other than parchment inside.

"Put it inside your bag. It's best that no one sees." I obliged. "I should be leaving, Amelia. I don't know when the next time you'll see me." She stood and waited for me, but I remained seated. "Don't play these games with me, Amelia."

"You're the one who's playing games!" I snapped. My anger propelled me to my feet. "Not seeing me for years and then you show up one day to talk about some important family secret that you can't tell me much about!"

"I know how frustrating that must be for you. But do know that I have your best interests at heart." She cupped my cheek with her hand. Her grey eyes searched mine. "You're going to be a powerful witch, Amelia. I look forward to seeing you again."

She leaned forward to kiss me.

"Don't!" I hissed, stepping out of her reach. "That's not something you say to your _daughter_! After all of this time, you expect-!"

My mum walked past me and opened the door into Professor McGonagall's office to stop my rant. It worked.

"Minerva, dear, it's been a pleasure. Thank you for taking Amelia out of class, but I best be off."

Professor McGonagall stood from behind her desk. Her eyes went from my mother's calm demeanor to mine.

"You're welcome, Rita. Miss Fortescue, are you quite all right? You look pale."

My mother turned to face me. I stared at the two women for a moment. "I'm fine, really, Professor. I better get going back to class," I said sweetly. "Thank you both for your thoughtfulness towards me."

I caught my mother's eye. She was grinning broadly at how I covered up what I truly felt. In that moment, I knew she had won. The jaguar had made its kill.

It's a warm night. Whenever a breeze enters my room, I breathe a sigh of relief. I can hear Eddie and Helen listening to the wireless downstairs, which means that Uncle Michael should be reading _The Evening Prophet_ and Aunt Susan should be catching up on her correspondence. If this were another time, I would be with them with a book, but recently, most nights I spend alone in my room.

I am on my bed, staring at the flickering shadows from my candles. The tiny box from this morning's owl is on my bedside table, jarring me with its presence.

"Did you send it, Rita?" I mutter as I lift my knees to catch the stale breeze. My head turns towards the box. "If so, where did you get it?"

This wouldn't be the first time that she would have given me something of this magnitude. But it isn't her style. From what I know of my mother, she has no interest in it. And she likes recognition. So far, the sender remains unknown.

Cursing, I sit up and take off the lid. I should just get it over with. That way, I will know. That way, I will be able to say good-bye.

"Cut it out, Amelia," I say as I stare at the tiny object within. My hand trembles as I reach inside and touch the smooth pebble.

Holding my breath, I look around the room. No one is there. Slightly relieved, I lift the pebble out of the box to examine it. Even in the candlelight, I can see the light carving of the triangular eye.

"No bloody way…"

I clench it into my fist, and I can feel his presence before I can see him.

"Hello, Amelia."


	3. The Pendant

My heart jolts. I turn to my left and I see him standing at the foot of my bed. He gives me an empty smile. He looks just like he did in life, but there is a washed-out transparency to him. I'm tempted to reach out to him, but I'm sure sure if I wouldn't be able to touch him, that he isn't solid.

"Hello," I breathe, gripping tighter onto the stone. I sit up in bed, feeling exposed.

"Not who you were expecting, I know."

Even in death, he is calculating. His thick eyebrows make his beady eyes appear smaller, but I know they are drinking in my every move, my every tick.

"What are you doing here?"

"Come now, Amelia." The way he says my name sets my teeth on edge. I think this may be the first time I have ever heard him say it. "Surely you being my only offspring warrants my posthumous visit. We're family."

A bitter laugh escapes my lips. "You don't know the meaning of that word."

"You're right. I'll give you that." His ghostly figure steps in front of me. Tempted to brandish my wand, I stand to meet his domineering gaze. "I see you have my complexion. My nose." He chuckles. "My frown."

"What do you want?" I ask.

"I believe you're the one who summoned me," my father says smugly. He looks boredly around my room, at my piles of books and many lit candles. "You're a reader, I see. Not much a witch of action."

"I didn't summon you," I snap.

"You did. You thought of me when you picked up the Stone."

Before I can retort, I catch myself. I _did_ think of him when I clenched my fist. At first, I thought, painstakingly, of James. But then I remember the last time I saw him, at my father's funeral, before-

"You figured it out. Clever girl, though a tad on the slower side."

"I don't appreciate your backhanded compliments. In fact, it's best that you leave. You've given me as much pleasure in your death as you did in your life."

My father raises his thick eyebrows and crosses his arms. "Now, now, let's not be too hasty, Amelia. While you can banish me away to...well, to wherever I came from, you won't find what you're looking for with this Stone."

"What do you mean?"

"Honestly, the Resurrection Stone? The most useless of the Hallows. I'm disappointed."

I roll my eyes. "Get to the point. What do you mean that I won't find what I'm looking for?"

My father laughs. He twirls his beard with his finger; his eyes resume to study me. "Maybe I should take back what I've said about you being clever. You want to talk to that boy you dated? Harry Potter's son? Well, you won't be able to."

"And how do you know?" I sneer. "His name is James, and _you_ hurt him when you crashed that dinner party-"

"Protective now of your loved ones? A trait you inherited from your mother, who sent you away for your protection. Ha."

"I've inherited only a few things from either of my parents, and a sense of protection is not one of them." I pace over to the window, staring into the darkness enveloping the back garden.

"You've inherited more than you're willing to accept," my father says.

 _Pick your battles_ , I silently tell myself, as much as it makes all the muscles in my body frigid. He's giving half-answers, trying to lure me into a twisted guessing game. "Now tell me, why can't I speak to James? I'm speaking to you, and you mean a hell of a lot less to me than most people, living or dead."

"Or presumed dead."

"Get to your bloody point!"

"You haven't figured it out already? Fine, I'll tell you. You won't be able to talk to him because _James_ , as you call him, isn't dead," my father explains with a sneer.

I step closer to him. My pulse quickens. "What? How do you know?"

"I'm dead. He's not. I know that much. Can I leave now? I'm getting bored of this conversation."

My breaths rattle in my chest as my trembling hands grip onto my bedpost. If what my father is true, then that must mean that James is still out there someone, surviving. My stomach churns. The room spins.

"If you're telling the truth, do you know where I can find him alive?" I ask. I shudder at my desperate tone. My father catches onto my insecurities, my hopes, and shatters them with his answer.

"No. I do not have omniscient knowledge. But even if you're to find him alive, and given everything that's happened, how do you know that he would even _want_ to talk to you?"

"Ugh! You're no more help to me, you liar!" I yell. Trying to blot out his stinging words, I hurl the Resurrection Stone at his figure. My father's laugh echoes in my ears as he disappears.

"Amelia?" Eddie comes in. He's about to enter his fifth year at Hogwarts, but he still hasn't reached his growth spurt yet. "Mum heard shouting. Are you okay?" 

"I'm okay, Eddie, really. Just cursing this damn heat," I say as I sit down on my bed and pick up a book. "Being so warm makes it so difficult to read."

Eddie stares at me for a moment, deciding if I'm telling the truth. He does. "Okay then. Goodnight."

"'Night Ed," I say as he closes the door. As soon as I hear his footsteps fade, I scramble to the corner where the Stone lies, waiting for me.

I know I shouldn't be caving. But if there's a possibility that my father wasn't lying, I need to know.

I pick it up and make a fist. I think of James.

No one appears.

"James. James Potter."

I pause, wondering if I'm calling the wrong one. I refine my search.

"James Sirius Potter."

No one else appears in my room, and I wait in silence.

I made it with seconds to spare to Transfiguration directly after my mother's visit. My mind reeled with her words and her manipulative. The envelope still lingered in my bag, which made it seem like I carried a heavy, oversized cauldron around. Even though I wanted nothing to do with my mother, I had a feeling that waiting to open the envelope was the best option. I needed to avoid suspicion.

"What happened? Why did McGonagall want you?" Victoria asked. Her blue eyes looked questioningly into my hazel ones. Hers was full of concern. I wasn't sure what emotion mine were portraying.

Noticing other classmates' stares at my sudden reappearance, I shrugged. _Stay neutral,_ I thought to myself. "Tell you about it later."

She nodded her agreement before Professor Ritter began his lesson.

It was a frustrating one. I couldn't concentrate on the advance movements of transfiguring a mouse into a snuffbox. My poor mouse was avoiding my wand and my unsuccessful attempts at magic. I didn't blame him. I wouldn't want me to turned into something else.

In way, that already had happened to me today. I was the mouse, my mother was the wand. I wondered how much of a painted snuffbox I was now.

"Well done, Miss Montague. I like the intricate detailing on the edges. How's your snuffbox coming along, Miss Fortescue?" Professor Ritter asked as he came over to our desk. I avoided his gaze.

"Look for yourself. You have eyes."

"Excuse me?"

Victoria tensed beside me. A few classmates sitting around us stopped working to see what would transpire.

"The mouse is still a mouse... Sir," I added hastily. My eyes remained gazing forward, but I could feel Professor Ritter's stare boring into the side of my face.

"I know that this is a complex spell, Miss Fortescue, but-"

"But what?" I said. "What's the point of this?" I finally looked up into his dark eyes.

"What did you just say to me?" Ritter demanded quietly. The whole class was watching us now.

"I said," I began tersely, "What's the point of this? Of this spell? Why in the name of Merlin do we even _want_ to transfigure a mouse into a bloody snuffbox?"

There was a silent pause before Ritter said, "Ten points from Slytherin, Miss Fortescue, for your disrespectful tone." 

"Whatever. I'm done. I'm not turning this mouse into a stupid snuffbox. Don't you know that smoking is bad for you anyway? And what has this mouse done to deserve such a useless fate?"

"You know full well we transfigure all the mice back to their original states, Miss Fortescue," Professor Ritter explained calmly. "I ask that you get back to your assignment before I take away any more points for insubordination."

"No."

Someone gasped. Victoria kicked my foot underneath my desk, but I didn't care.

"No? I see then. I think a detention is needed, Miss Fortescue. And you, a prefect."

I stood up, glaring at him. "Fine. But it's not going to change my mind," I snapped. I grabbed my bag and walked out of the classroom, leaving behind a buzz of startled excitement.

I could feel Ritter's stare and Victoria's concern piercing my back, but I didn't care. I needed to move, to shake off my mum's visit.

For ages now, I had grown comfortable at the thought that Aunt Susan and even Uncle Michael were my parental guardians. I even considered Eddie and Helen as siblings. I was used to my life without my mother.

But her sudden reappearance was like a lightning shock to my system. I didn't feel like me anymore; I didn't feel like a mouse.

Instead, I felt like a cold, useless snuffbox, full of toxicity.

I needed to change that. I needed to go back to the way things were before now. But it would take time.

I wandered the halls, avoiding people when I heard them. I even hid successfully from Neville-or Professor Longbottom as I was supposed to call him while I was here at school. Eventually, I found myself on the edge of the Black Lake. In the distance, I could see Albus Dumbledore's white tomb. If I were to look a little more to my right, I would be able to see the memorial for the Battle of Hogwarts.

It was quiet here, a patch of suspended time and temporary peace.

Before I knew it, the envelope my mum had given me was in my hands. Hastily, unwittingly, I opened it. A pendant slid out of the envelope, along with a brief note.

The note was in Runes. My mother had taught me the basics as a child. I learned Runes before I learned letters of the alphabet. I could easily decipher the note.

 _Dear Amelia, This pendant belonged to your grandfather Florean, who kept it locked away in his vault in Gringotts. It's time that this goes to you. The pendant is a symbol that is helpful to The Cause. I urge you to keep it secret. Love, your mother Rita_

As soon as I finished reading, the note turned to ash in my hand. I repeated the note in my mind several times to commit it to memory. 

I could hear people talking about two hundred meters away from me. I turned to see the Gryffindor Quidditch team walking up to the castle. It must have been nearly dinner time by now. As soon as they were out of earshot, I examined the pendant.

"Odd," I muttered, turning it over in my hands. It was solidly made and looked old. My finger traced the outline. I wasn't sure what the pendant was supposed to represent. It was a Rune I had never seen before, and I had taken my O.W.L. in Ancient Runes last year as a fourth year. It looked like a triangular eye, nothing that I had ever come across.

I cursed my mother for bringing more confusion into my life. I grasped it into my hand and lifted my fist, tempted to throw it into the lake. But the thought of my grandfather, a highly celebrated wizard, stopped me. This had been his. He had kept it safe. And now it was mine, regardless that it was my mother who gave it to me.

Carefully, I put the pendant around my neck, tucking it and its gold chain underneath my shirt before I headed back to the castle.

In retrospect, I probably should have thrown the pendant into the lake. I believe that in that moment of yearning for my grandfather, I sealed the fate of what was to come in the following years.

In the darkness, I think of him. He hasn't appeared yet, and I begin to think that maybe what my father told me was true. That he isn't dead. That he's alive.

James is alive. James is alive. James is alive.

This rhythmic chant repeats in my mind as my grasp loosens on the stone. Eventually, the chant simplifies as I lull to sleep.

James. James. James. James.


	4. The Detention

Two nights after my tumultuous visit with my mother and my outrageous outburst with Professor Ritter, I said goodnight to Victoria before heading to the greenhouses to serve my detention with Neville. With my gloves in hand, I wondered what I would be doing. I didn't mind Herbology lessons, so perhaps this detention wouldn't be so bad after all.

I arrived ten minutes early. Neville was at his desk, reading _The Evening Prophet_. The man's face was on the front cover again.

"Amelia! I wasn't expecting you so soon. Come in and take a seat to wait for the others," he greeted, waving me to an empty chair.

"Others?"

"Yeah. I'm doing some collective detentions. Kirby Williams and James Potter."

I raised my eyebrows. It was no surprise that James Potter would have a detention, and I thought I knew Kirby Williams as a third year Ravenclaw. "I see. Then I best wait... Oh, by the way, I apologized to Professor Ritter today, as you told me."

Neville smiled. "Good. I'm glad that you took that responsibility."

"And..." I paused. My eyes wavered from his. "And I would like to thank you for intervening for me. You didn't have to do that."

Neville nodded slowly. His round face studied me for a moment before replying. "You're welcome, Amelia. In normal circumstances, this wouldn't be the case, as I suspect you know. But Professors Ritter, McGonagall, and I agree that you were put under unfair stress from your mother's visit."

I nodded, at a loss of words. I knew that this sentence _was_ light. No more lost points. No detention with Ritter. Neville must have really advocated for me. I finally saw who was on the front page of Neville's newspaper. "Have they caught him?"

"Caught who?" Neville asked. He followed my gaze. "Ah, Cassius Vaisey. No, I'm afraid. But he was sighted in London. The Ministry is on high alert."

Cassius Vaisey's photograph sneered, revealing his silver tooth. He was a face that was hard to forget, even though I knew I saw him as a child at Neville's wedding. I swallowed, looking back at Neville. Perhaps he knew something that the newspaper didn't.

"Do you know what he did? Why he was in Azkaban?" I asked.

"He killed someone. His brother, I think, about six or seven years ago," Neville answered.

"Did you know him?"

"Did I-? Why do you ask, Amelia?" Neville asked, putting down the newspaper.

Before I could answer, a knock came at the door. Kirby Williams, a blonde, scrawny Ravenclaw, peeked his head inside.

"Hullo Professor," he said dully. "Can I come in?"

"Of course you can, Kirby. Just waiting on one-"

"Sorry I'm late, Nev-Professor!" panted James as he ran into the office. His breath caught in his throat upon seeing Kirby and me. "Oh brilliant. Others!"

"Good evening, James. Let's get to business, shall we?" Neville said. "Come and bring your gloves and your cloaks. You have a project in greenhouse six to do."

We followed behind Neville. James raised his eyebrows as I walked in front of him, wondering why I was even here. I ignored him. Kirby was directly behind Neville and kept his head down.

"Right, you lot. As you know, winter is on its way. We have to plant some Arctic ferns. I want to do them with the second years in January, so it's best to prepare now." He paused outside the greenhouse. "It's chilly inside. I have some scarves and hats for you to use if it's too cold for you."

He opened the door, and we went inside. In the dim light, I could see my breath erupting from my lips in icy swirls.

"I'll come back in an hour to see your progress, and also to give you a break from the chill. I advise you to not talk _too_ much, but also use each other's company to get the work done." He winked. "Scarves and the like are over there. Shovels and spores over here, next to the empty patch, where you'll be planting. It'll be tough work to loosen the hard soil. Any questions?"

"Yes, Professor," James said. He leaned towards Neville. "What do you say when you give a hippogriff named Lilac to your girlfriend?"

Neville sighed, shaking his head at the timing of his joke. "All right, I'll bite. What?"

"Take-a-sniff of this hippogriff!"

I snorted. "Really? That's not even funny."

"James, you really do have an interesting imagination," Neville chuckled, "But I'm afraid it won't get you out of this detention. See you in an hour."

"Aw, Professor, I had to give it a try," James said, grinning broadly. "You never know if a joke is the right one until you say it!"

"Maybe next time say 'Take-a- _whiff_ '!" Neville called over his shoulder as he closed the door.

"Damn," James said, looking over at Kirby and me. "That's loads better than _sniff_ , don't you think?"

"I think you should do less sniffing and less whiffing," I muttered as I walked over to the box with scarves.

"Is that sarcasm I detect?" James asked, laughing. "A Slytherin prefect in detention _and_ is sarcastic. You're full of surprises, Fortescue. Keep 'em coming. It'll make tonight pass quicker." 

"Hey guys, should we get started?" Kirby asked quietly. "I will do this section here and work towards the middle, okay?" 

"Rock on, Kirby!" James said enthusiastically. "You do what you gotta do to get it done. But after a few more detentions, you'll learn to appreciate and savor the commitment of manual labor."

"Far out," I exclaimed, lifting a pair of earmuffs from the box. They resembled a galaxy of stars and supernovas. "If I had a pair of earmuffs, these would be the pair!"

James appeared at my elbow. "Nice! I always knew that Longbottom had a killer fashion sense. Are there any more?"

"I haven't seen any," I told him as I put them over my ears. I smiled at the sudden warmth. "Kirby, I'll start on the over end of the patch, okay?" 

"'Kay," he panted glumly. He was already on his knees packing loosening the soil.

I gingerly put on my gloves and picked up a gardening shovel to get to work. Mere moments into my task, James appeared beside me again.

"You got the coolest pair of earmuffs. Thought you'd like to know," James informed me as he, too, picked up a shovel. He sprouted a pair of bright red earmuffs and a black and white striped scarf.

"Uh, thanks. Do you mind?"

"Only a little bit. I don't think I could pull off the astronomical look."

"I meant your proximity to my workspace," I said, looking up at him. His brown eyes flashed mischievously as he grinned. He had some freckles dusted across his face.

"Between you and me," he whispered, "I think our friend, Kirby here, is a bit distressed that he's in detention. I want him to sweat it out a bit before breaking the ice with him."

"And I'm better company?" I asked him skeptically.

"Fair point," he said, shrugging. "But I'm curious to know why you're here, Fortescue. What happened to the bacon-snatching, authoritative prefect?"

Rolling my eyes, I went back to loosening the soil. "That gossip hasn't reached your ears yet? It's all over the Slytherin common room."

"Leave it to the Slytherins to keep gossip to themselves," he said. He angled his shovel to the near-frozen earth and began to dig.

"You could've heard it easily from your brother," I said. "He's a Slytherin, too."

"Don't remind me," James groaned. He sighed. "I'll never understand that one… But I'm only joking a little bit. I heard some...vague rumors."

"Then let them remain vague," I said. I furrowed my brow, keeping strict eye contact on my work.

"That's no fun," James complained. "Fine… How about _I_ tell _you_ why I'm here?"

"Does it involve throwing bacon?"

"Surprisingly, no."

"Then telling bad jokes?"

James laughed. "Most of my jokes are irresistibly funny! But no. I'm here because the bucket of water intended for Peeves landed on the librarian."

"Was that why she had wet hair and a foul mood yesterday?" I asked.

"In retrospect, throwing a bucket of water on Peeves is probably not the best thing to do to a poltergeist, but he was pelting chalk at us again, so I wanted to inconvenience him back. Perhaps next time I'll think of something better."

"And have another poor soul take Peeves' punishment?"

"I wouldn't necessarily describe our librarian's soul as 'poor.' More like 'withered' or 'pruned,'" James explained matter-of-factly.

"She is a very lovely soul once you get to know her!" I protested. My hand shovel hit a large pebble. I lost my grip and the shovel flung towards James.

"Wotcher!" he exclaimed, catching it. I then knew why he played Seeker. "Here you go. Watch out there."

There was a lull in the conversation as we worked silently next to each other. James, of course, was the first to break the silence.

"So, are you going to tell me why you're here tonight?" he prompted again.

I shook my head. "Vague rumors are best if unconfirmed."

"Well, what about you, Kirby?" James turned towards the quietest member of our party.

The Ravenclaw jumped at being addressed. "Erm," he said nervously, "I tripped a girl when we were walking from Defense Against the Dark Arts. My mum sent me a Howler yesterday at breakfast."

"Oh, that was you?" James asked interestedly. "I've gotten a couple of those in my time. Did the girl deserve it? To be tripped?"

"Yeah," he said darkly. "She made fun of my boggart."

"She did not!" James gasped in a mocking yet supportive outside. "What's your boggart?"

Kirby began to blush. "A butterfly," he grumbled before turning back to his digging. He approached it with a little too much vigor.

"A creature worthy of fear," James nodded. "My boggart's a giant scorpion. Wicked creatures. What's yours, Fortescue?"

I paused my digging, looking back at him. Even Kirby stopped to listen to my answer. I wasn't about to give it to the likes of them, so I decided to go for the snarky response.

"Are you sure you want to know?" I asked.

"Yeah!"

"Small talk."

A pause and then a boisterous laugh. "Merlin, Fortescue! You're good," James said. "Where was this attitude when you took away my bacon?"

"You'll never let that go, will you?" I rolled my eyes and went back to my task.

"Never."

I shrugged, slightly annoyed at his prodding but also slightly annoyed by myself for being okay with it. "Well, I guess now I give fewer shits than I did back then." It was true enough. Memories of my mother's unannounced visit set my teeth on edge. What was the point of following the rules and always being polite when people dragged you into their shit anyways?

I resisted the urge to fiddle with my grandfather's pendant, still hidden underneath my clothes.

"Bravo," James said. "Well, this attitude suits you, anyway. But really, why are you here? They don't hand out detentions for giving fewer shits."

I sighed, putting down my shovel. "For the sake of some inner peace, I'd rather keep this brief and move on. I exchanged a few cross words with Professor Ritter before ditching the rest of the Transfiguration lesson."

"Blimey, you're on a roll. What did you say to him?"

"Enough to get me here tonight," I told him cryptically. I gave him a warning glare. James received it and changed the subject to Quidditch.

Soon, the conversation lulled into silence. Neville soon joined us in the greenhouse.

"How's it going?" he asked brightly.

"Good, sir!" James enthusiastically replied. "We're about finished with the soil, and soon we'll start planting the spores."

"Excellent! How is everyone handling the chill? Need a break? Let's get some tea in my office."

"Why are we getting tea?" Kirby asked. "Aren't we being punished?"

"Yes, you are living out the consequences of your choices, but that doesn't mean getting frostbite. Tea is purely for your wellbeing."

And so it was. Neville gave us the blandest tea, but I was thankful for a reprieve from the cold.

"Oh! You found some earmuffs, I see," Neville said, smiling. "They used to belong to a good friend of mine, Luna Lovegood."

"Why would she ever give these up?" I exclaimed. "They're marvelous."

Neville chuckled. "I think she found some that helped keep away Wackspurts or something of the sort. Anyway, I forgot I had these. Did I ever tell you about the time when…?"

At half past nine, Neville ushered us back into the greenhouse.

"This shouldn't take too long," he said kindly. "Once you're done, come to my office and I'll mark you off for completing a detention." We started to go inside. "Amelia, can I have a quick word?"

James gave me a curious look before Neville closed the door between us.

"Yes, Professor?"

"I wanted to check with you about before, about Cassius Vaisey. Why did you ask if I knew him?"

My heart began to pound quickly. Should I tell him? "I…"

"You what?" His face, normally kind and warm, was stern and unyielding. 

Silently cursing myself for my blank mind, I decided that that truth couldn't hurt. "Well, I was wondering because… well, it was a long time ago, and it was night, and I was only a little kid…"

"Amelia, what's this about?" Neville's deep concern caused me to take a step back.

"I thought I saw him a long time ago. At your wedding."

"You what?" Neville asked. "Are you sure?"

"No…" But his face wasn't one that I would forget anytime soon. "Yes? I don't know. I was about eight at the time, so I can't really be sure. He was standing outside of the party tent, anyway, talking to someone."

"Who was this someone? Do you remember what they were talking about?" Neville asked.

I shook my head. "No… I couldn't see the other person. It was a man, I think. I don't think I remember what they were talking about. Maybe about someone. And Hogwarts? I… It was so long ago, and I could be terribly wrong."

"Amelia, why didn't you tell anyone?"

"I-I don't know! I thought that you or Hannah knew him, that he must've been a friend."

Neville sighed, closing his eyes. "Thank you, Amelia, for telling me. I might share this information with some of my friends at the Ministry. Is that okay?"

I paled.

"You won't get into trouble, I promise," Neville said reassuringly.

"Okay then…" I shifted uncomfortably, wanting desperately to leave. "Can I get back to work?" 

"Of course, of course. See you in a bit," Neville said before heading back to his office.

When I reentered the greenhouse, James swore.

"My mum's going to kill me!" he cried, examining a tear in the side of his cloak.

"What happened?" I wondered, inspecting it with him.

"Got caught on a nail! Bugger."

"I'm sure you could sew it back up," I said confidently, putting my gloves back on.

"First I'd have to learn how to sew!" James said. "Anyway, this cloak's new. I got it a couple weeks ago for my birthday… Gah!" He swatted the torn bit away.

"Happy belated birthday," I said, taking a bowl of spores. "You're lucky yours is in the autumn. Mine's on Boxing Day, so it gets overshadowed by Christmas festivities."

James raised his eyebrows. "That sucks. The attention you get on your birthday is awesome. I've gotten some pretty wicked gifts…" James quickly changed the subject to something I was sure he was dying to discuss. "Say, what did Nev-Professor Longbottom- want with you just now?"

Kirby took a brief pause in the rhythm of his work, intrigued. I gave a small smile. "He wanted a prefect's perspective on things." _True enough_ , I thought. "It seems like we're nearly finished..."

When our work pleased Neville, he released us back to the castle. I must admit, it was hard to part with those earmuffs, much to James' amusement. Kirby, James, and I walked in silence. It was past ten o'clock, and we were tired from working the hard soil.

"Well, this is me," I said when we came to the entrance hall. "Dungeons. Lovely place for a common room, isn't it?" 

"The loveliest," agreed James. Kirby muttered a goodnight. The boys turned to continue to their dormitories. I finally plucked up the courage to say something.

"Potter? Er, James?"

He stopped, turning around. "What?"

"When you said that… that my new attitude suits me…" I paused, formulating the right words in my mind.

"Yeah?" he prompted. In the distance, Kirby looked uncertain if he should have stopped to listen in on this conversation.

"Well, I want you to know that I like who I was when I was an authoritative prefect just like how I like myself now as a cheekier one. I don't need to seek approval from my peers."

James cocked his head to the side, seemingly at a loss for words. At first, I thought that I messed up our new flow, but what he said erased my doubts.

"I appreciate you telling me this, Amelia. I don't want you to seek my approval for your cheeky behavior. I want you to be cheeky because you seem happier when you are."

"Okay, then." My relief was unexpected. "I'm glad we cleared that up. Good night."

"Good night, Amelia."

The memories from detention stayed with me long after that night. When I saw James in Ancient Runes class, he greeted me kindly. Even little Kirby threw me a smile when we passed in the corridors. But Neville _did_ inform his Ministry friends about what I might have seen. I was asked to give an official statement (with Aunt Susan present since I was underage) one Saturday afternoon, in Professor McGonagall's office to keep it quiet from the student body. The Auror was nice enough. She asked me to recall the events, and I repeated what I had told Neville.

Both recounts, though, I glossed over the end, when I made eye contact with Cassius Vaisey.

I had been too terrified to move as they continued to talk in the shadows outside of the wedding tent. I could tell that what the two men were saying was not good. The excitement from the game I had been playing had been consumed by a paralyzing terror.

"Amelia? Where are you? We're playing a new game now!" a voice had called behind me.

Vaisey had turned around at hearing the voice, and I knew then that he saw me. He smiled at me, and it was all that I could do to look away in terror.

"Amelia!" The voice had found me.

"Yeah?" My voice was shaky.

"Louis and Dominique are setting the rules. Let's go play! Come on!" James Potter, aged nine, led the way back into the party tent, to where the other kids were waiting to begin a new game. When I had looked back to see the two men, they were gone.

It's morning. A numb disbelief throbs throughout my body. How can I be here, right now? It was so real; I felt like I was back in fifth year again, in detention with James.

James.

The Resurrection Stone sits on my nightstand. I quickly snatch it and place it in my jewelry box, securing a lock. A shoddy hiding place, I know, but for now, it's the best I can do.

I walk over to my wardrobe and open its contents. Searching, I finally find what I'm looking for. I put my pair of galactic earmuffs on and crawl back into bed.

It was so real. But it was a dream. Or a memory. I can't tell.

The earmuffs are soft beneath my fingertips and too hot for my ears, but I don't care. These earmuffs are what I have left from the detention.

No, these aren't the ones that Neville had in his storage. No. These are perhaps the most perplexing thing from detention because when it was Boxing Day about seven weeks later, or my sixteenth birthday, I received these earmuffs as a present.

I remember what the card said.

 _Happy Birthday, Amelia! I was out shopping with my family, and I saw these. I remember how much you coveted the ones from detention. Hope these fill the gaping hole that was left by the original pair and the fact that your birthday is the day after Christmas. Have a good rest of your holiday. James._

A/N: Another chapter!

Sorry I am so slow at updating. My computer died, and it's taking me a while to balance new computer, life, and this story. I am posting these previously published chapters of this story as I continue to write from where I left off on HPFF.

If you want the fully updated story, check out my AP at HPFT.

Feel free to leave a review! :)


	5. Ehwaz

The first of September passes, and it feels strange that I do not join my cousins, Edgar and Helen, on the Hogwarts Express. Eddie's heading into his fifth year and Helen her third. I am headed into uncertainty.

My plan has taken a while to formulate. If there is a chance of finding James, I need to convince the Aurors that he is alive. But I can't reveal the Resurrection Stone to just anyone. It's a dangerous tool, and I can't let it possibly slip into the wrong hands.

The only person I can think of who would believe me is also the person I most fear: Harry Potter.

I'm not sure why events in the second half of my fifth played out like they did. At the time, I couldn't see how they were connected. If I had had a chance to change things, I'm not sure if I would have, and that's a difficult thing to admit.

After the detention and my birthday, I became wary of James. I wasn't scared of him, just confused. Especially after events like, "Oi, Amelia! Nice earmuffs!" James had been heading down for Care of Magical Creatures as I had just come out of Herbology when he shouted this at me.

"Thanks!" I had called back. He had given me a thumb's up before going on his way with a group of friends, who had been looking over at me.

It must have been the end of February or the beginning of March when James and I next worked together. It wasn't in another detention. It was in Ancient Runes class. We were finishing a unit on Ancient Egyptian Runes, and we had to translate and solve some Runes in order to break into tombs-all on parchment, of course, but if we wrote down one wrong answer, we could get trapped.

"I'm going to pair you up based on the Runes you draw from my bag!" announced Professor Babbling as jolly as ever.

Some of the class groaned, and I was silently with them. Group work wasn't one of my favorite activities, and _random_ group work meant that I had no choice with whom I was going to work.

Since I was sitting near the front, I was one of the first to pull a Rune.

"Ehwaz. Good choice," smiled Professor Babbling. I turned the Rune over in my hand, studying it. I remember it was on the O.W.L. exam last year.

Once everyone had their Runes, there was a buzz of students trying to find each other. I stood up with the class but leaned against the desk, waiting for my partner to find me.

"Amelia, what do you have? I think we have the same one," said Marion Gorgon. I looked at the Rune in her hand.

"That's _Ei_ whaz. I have Ehwaz," I told her.

"Damn. They look so similar," she complained. "Would've liked working with you, though."

"Who has Ehwaz?" James asked. "I heard one of you say you had it."

"It's her," Marion said before leaving us.

James raised his eyebrows. "Well, it looks like we're partners, which is funny, isn't it?"

"Huh?"

"Ehwaz means partnership. We're partners on the project. Good start on the project, yeah?" James flashed a smile. I returned it with a smaller one. "Gah, it was funnier in my head."

"I suppose."

"When do you want to meet to work on this?" James asked. "Not sure if I'm up for an assignment this intense." He gave a wink.

"What are you doing on Thursday at half four?"

"Working with you, obviously."

With a stroke of good fortune, I have been offered an entry-level position at the Ministry of Magic with the research committee, which gives me easier access around the Ministry. The day before yesterday was my first day, so hopefully I have the chance to go find Harry Potter today.

My mouth goes dry. So much can go wrong.

Aunt Susan says goodbye to me in the Atrium. I grip tightly onto my bag, where the Resurrection Stone is securely hidden. Keeping a neutral face, I walk towards Phoebus Penrose's office, but I'm stopped right outside. A figure steps in front of my path.

"Fortescue," says Auror Barrett. Her blue eyes glare down at me.

"Good morning, Auror Barrett," I say lightly. I had been wondering if I would be running into her.

"I found out yesterday that you got a job at the Ministry. Don't know how you wriggled your way into here," she sneers.

I keep my tone polite. "My N.E.W.T. scores came in almost two weeks ago, and I qualified to work with Professor Penrose. Now if you-"

"I've got my eye on you,"Auror Barrett interrupts curtly.

"Are you threatening me?" My voice loses its pleasantness. I take a step forward.

We wait for two wizards to rush past us before she speaks.

"Of course not." There's a pause. I narrow my eyes as she continues, "I'm making sure your transition to the Ministry is smooth. Wouldn't want to get caught in the crossfires of anything, now would we?"

I smile darkly. "I can look out for myself, thank you."

We stare at each other for a moment.

"Unbelievable," mutters Auror Barrett, shaking her head. She pushes past me and disappears into the stream of people walking towards the elevators. Sighing, I readjust my bag on my shoulder before heading into the office.

Sitting at my favorite spot in the library, I continued to puzzle over my grandfather's pendant. What did it mean? So far, it wasn't in any of the books I had for Ancient Runes, and I already started on some of the other Runes books in the library. My next step was the Restricted Section, and that would be tricky.

"Hey Amelia!" greeted James.

I jumped at his sudden appearance. My books and notes were all over the place.

"Blimey," he breathed, sitting across from me. "Are all these for our project?" 

"No, no. They're mostly for my own research."

James stared at me and nodded slowly. "I'm impressed- not that you need my approval," he added hastily.

I returned his nod. "Thanks, though I'll take it as a compliment. Now, to get cracking with these Egyptian Runes, I thought that we should brush up on the history of ancient Egyptian wizards."

"You serious?"

"Yeah. I have some books which I think might be helpful. There's a lesser known Bathilda Bagshot book that I'm keen to read," I said, piling my papers on the triangular eye and moving the history books onto the table from the chair next to me.

James picked up one, studying it. "You like to read this stuff for fun?"

"Well, not for fun really, just in my free time."

"You remind me a lot of my Aunt Hermione," James said. "My dad always talks about how she saved his skins at Hogwarts because she read a lot."

"Well so far, I haven't saved anyone's skins," I replied, grinning. I was quite flattered to be compared to the Minister for Magic.

"Let's keep it that way. I'd like to keep mine fully intact at all times." He also grinned and opened the book. "This is dense. If this is what you do in your free time, what do you do for fun?"

My stare was deadpan. "Nothing."

James laughed. "No really. There must be something you like to do."

I shrugged, not sure how to answer him. "I don't know. Read less dense stuff, maybe."

James shook his head. "Unbelievable. I always thought Slytherins didn't have a sense for fun, and this just proves it."

"What does my House have anything to do with it?"

"Take a look at my brother. His fun factor is almost at zero."

I raised my eyebrows and crossed my arms. "Very well, then. What do you do for fun?"

" _Now_ we're talking!" James exclaimed. "In addition to all of the fun games known to wizardkind-Quidditch especially-I like to go on adventures."

"What kind of adventures?" 

"I'm not sure I should be telling you this, as you're a prefect and all…"

"Oh my," I began. I opened the folder in which had our Ancient Runes assignment. "Whatever you do must be awfully fun if they suggest breaking school rules."

"They might suggest breaking the rules or they might not." James was fighting to keep a smile a bay.

"Dabbling in the air of intrigue, I see," I said quietly, laying out the Egyptian Runes in front of us.

"Can't be. That's your area."

"Oh?" I felt a smile tug at my lips.

"Yeah. You hardly seem to answer any of my questions."

"Because you answer them yourself."

"What?"

"You just identified what I like to do for fun."

A brief pause and then- "Crickey, Amelia, you're good!"

We soon got to working on our project. It was our toughest ones to date, since not all of our books had translations available. James and I maintained our friendly banter throughout that day and all of our meetings, and we must have carried it outside of our meeting times at the library, because soon, people began to notice.

At break time, I make my way to the Law Enforcement Office. I have to restrain my pace to one of purpose and not of speed. Thankfully, there are clusters of witches and wizards in which I blend. I keep a look out for Auror Barrett. If she spots me, I'll have to turn back, hopefully without getting caught.

I follow the signs to where the top administrators are. I silently praise Merlin that they're separated from the cubicles in main Auror office.

A receptionist is there. I have nowhere to hide nor any way to sneak past her.

"Hullo," she says, eyeing me. "What can I do you for?"

"Er, hello," I say. I straighten my shoulders and look past her. I spot the closed door that reads _Harry Potter, Head of Magical Law Enforcement._ "I'm here on urgent business with Harry Potter."

"Your name?" She looks down at her agenda, quill in hand. 

There's no turning back now. "Amelia Fortescue."

She pauses and bites her bottom lip before saying, "Does Mr. Potter know that you're coming to see him today?"

"I'm not certain," I reply. "But I do need to see him."

"About what?"

"I can't tell you, sorry," I say. "But it is important."

She puts down her quill. "I see. I'm afraid that Mr. Potter can't see you right now. He's busy running a tight ship around here." 

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit. What am I to do now? I roll back my shoulders and grip tightly onto my bag.

"I assure you that this is important. I can't imagine Mr. Potter would be very pleased to hear that you turned me away." I confidently begin to walk past her desk. She stands, whipping out her wand.

"Miss Fortescue, you're not seeing Mr. Potter."

"It's urgent."

"I'm sorry. You can't."

"Then I need to make an appointment then. Sooner rather than later."

"I don't think that's possible at the moment. Mr. Potter is a busy man," she responds. She steps in front of me.

"And if I have something that's vital information?" My voice raises. I refuse to look past the receptionist to try to hide my next attempt to cause a scene.

"I can refer you to someone else. Auror Barrett, perhaps."

Ah, they have a system in place for me. I don't blame them after everything that's happened. I try to brush past this piece of new information.

"What I have is case sensitive. Can I see Mr. Potter now?" My voice is louder still. The tension in the air thickens as I see the receptionist thinking of what to do next.

"I'm sorry, Miss Fortescue, not now. If you don't leave, I'll have to call security," she warns.

"Why?" I demand. "I _need_ to see Mr. Potter. Now if you excuse me-!"

"Security"! shouts the receptionist as I step past her.

"It's important!" I exclaim. Security wizards appear in my path. A couple office doors open. I need to keep up my tantrum if I have hopes that Harry will emerge from his office. I try to walk past the security wizards.

"Miss, if you don't leave now, we'll have to escort you out," one of them warns.

"Out of my way!" I shout. "I need to see Harry Potter!"

They grab onto my arms and begin to drag me away.

"Let go of me! I need Harry Potter NOW!" I scream. I kick out my legs and twist my body, trying to loosen their grip on me. My eyes stay on Harry's door. To my relief, I see it open. He stands in the doorway, drinking in the scene. His face darkens as soon as he sees what's happening.

"You're coming with us, miss," says one of the guards as he tries to turn me away from facing Harry's door. I resist.

"Harry! Harry, please!" I shout. "It's about-" A wand appears in my face, so I twist away. "It's about-" Another wand comes towards my face. We're about to round the corner. In a surge of fury, I twist around, facing an office full of wizards. Harry's gone from his threshold, but the door remains open. "Peverell!" I holler before I'm finally removed from the office.


End file.
